Just Another Night In Kirkwall City
by Not much a poet
Summary: ON HIATUS DUE TO A WYVERN SIZED AMOUNT OF UNI WORK Modern day retelling of Dragon Age 2. Dark themes, some lemon in future. F!Hawke/Anders, cameos/mentions of DA Origins characters. Please R&R, haven't written in a year and need to know how I'm doing
1. Chapter 1

_She remembered a time when things were a little less difficult, back when they were younger and everything was new and exciting. Like most people of their age and in their position, things were just fun and games. Carver, her, and Wesley were still rookies in the squad and it was just a regular night on patrol. In all honesty, they were a little bored, probably all wanting to catch some big shot in the act, bring him down, maybe use their guns for the first time, then come back the next morning being hailed as heroes. _

_They were all sat in the car drinking coffee. Sure, they did need it, but it was more down to the fact that they were goofing around and deliberately playing stereotypes. All they needed was a box of donuts, but at that hour, you couldn't get hold of any that weren't gas station-bought and hard and flavorless as rock. She also remembers exactly what they were talking about just before, how it was Wesley's first anniversary the next day (or more accurately, that day), and what he was going to do about it as he had forgotten all about it. She knew his wife, and unless they came up with something that night, they 'might have to drag his body from the water in a week or so'. Much laughter, but it was inevitable as the two Hawke siblings had no solution, having never been in that situation (apart from maybe their mother's birthday)._

_It was a pleasant evening, boring even; they had driven around a little, but were mostly parked, just talking and keeping a semi-watchful eye on the street in front of them. It was strange; being the idiots that they were, they tried to stay within the red light districts of town ('because what's the point of keeping an eye on the safe parts of town?'). Two coffees each later, and still nothing. _

_Not that this was anything new. In retrospect, it was a safer time._

_A car flew past them. At least it was something, so they followed it, sirens blasting. Even though this was a minor criminal, it was still someone to catch (and also to cure their boredom, though that part paled in comparison to their own motives). Halfway up the freeway, a second car sped by, overtaking the first but not bothering to get back into lane. They all had smiles on their faces; a car chase was something exciting, right? _

_Neither of the offending cars pulled over when asked, even with Carver making exaggerated hand signals to the drivers. Carver was also driving, so she kept yelling at him to keep his eyes on the road whilst she and Wesley tried to communicate with the drivers. As she watched the cars, she noticed that that both of the other drivers were yelling at each other, rather aggressively in fact; this wasn't just a case of road rage. The whole thing was a blur of flashing lights, loud voices, and eventually the sound of breaking glass. Instinctively she ducked. Instinctively she screamed as the car spun out of control. She kept shouting at Carver to keep control, for Wesley to grab the wheel, anything._

_Thud._

_She woke up later to the front of the car smashed, the windshield moulded around a bent lamppost. Red everywhere, the two men in the front of the car slumped unconsciously. _

**DADADADADADADADADADADADADADA DADADADADADADADADADADADADADA DADADADADADA**

She swirled that same brand of coffee around her cup, the dregs staining the polystyrene sides before falling back in waves. Things were harder these days, and not just the work. A lot of time had passed apparently; at least she had worked her way up to the position of detective. She stared absentmindedly out of the window; it was another relatively peaceful night with only a few drunken teenagers to round up home. The red digital numbers on the clock said 2.30. At least her shift was over.

She did what she usually did, head down to the Hanged Man and drink.

Stepping in the doors engulfed her with the eye watering cigarette smoke and the smell of hard spirits and beer. It wasn't a shady bar, but it certainly wasn't pristine. Still, if she didn't like it, then why had she been coming here for years?

'Hi Kitten, you want your usual?'

One of the barmaids had broken her out what she thought was a vacant stare (she seemed to do that a lot, just stop dead as she thought about things).

'Hi Isabella, sure…'

The barmaid walked away to the bar after giving her what she guessed was a look of sympathy. She didn't need it; she was just another person whose personal problems seemed bigger than anyone else's. She sat down at a table away from anyone. Yet again, she wanted to wallow in self-pity, rather than being in the centre of the room and having people come up to her to ask what was wrong ('and if they could help her out', wink wink…).

The bar was low lit, glass stains on the tables, right next to the carved tags written crudely in the wood. She could have sworn there were cobwebs in the corner behind her as well, but then again it could have been just wisps of smoke coming from the table next to her.

'Here you go' Isabella smiled, setting down the glass of double scotch. 'Just how you like it'.

No 'rocks'. She smiled, but it suddenly hit her that maybe she'd come here too often if the staff knew her preferences.

'Don't blame you; unless I chug it, the ice just melts and waters it down' Isabella chuckled, sitting down in front of her. The smile wilted back down into being a sympathetic one. She took the detective's hands and leaned in a little more. It was a good thing they had become something of friends, otherwise this would have been awkward.

'Reg, it's been 7 years… I know it's been hard, but you can't keep blaming yourself…'

Yeah, it had. With Carver and Bethany gone, she was the only one left to look after her mother. Oh, she meant about the actual shooting?

'I should have done something Izzy, I shouldn't have hid in the back while it happened!'

'Yeah, and if you had have done, you might not still be here. For God's sake, you've lived for both of them! You're a detective now, you get to take those sorts of guys off the street for good so they can't hurt anyone else!'

She had a point, but it didn't help. It was deep set in her, like a parasite that you couldn't get rid of. She knew it was eating her alive, but losing your brother and friend was something that she couldn't escape.

She downed her drink in two gulps. Isabella sighed and shook her head; Regine had great potential to become an alcoholic (even though she claimed she didn't _need_ to drink, something Isabella laughed at silently as she was down here most every night after work).

'I'll get you another…' she muttered, getting up and walking to the bar.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Author's Note**__**: Hi guys, I'm really sorry for the delay. Just moved back to college and I've had a busy last couple of weeks. I also have to apologise for this being very much a filler piece, but rest assured, I'm working on chapter 3 as we speak. Bear with me; I haven't written properly in a year so I'm bound to have a lot of creative blocks, but I appreciate the reviews that I got last chapter**_

When she came into work the next morning she felt groggy as usual. Well, it wasn't like it was unheard of; strolling in with a hangover and a migraine the size of an ogre. The receptionist was staring at her. Whilst normally she might silently make a joke about being so hot she could turn straight people gay, this time it was annoying. On top of the people in the parking lot looking at her like she was disfigured or something, the total now came to six. No, seven…another one… By the time she got to my desk, she was beginning to wonder if she had toothpaste on my face again.

'HAWKE! My office, NOW!'

And that would be Aveline. Sorry, _Captain_ _Vallen_. She was nice enough, until you meet her that is (she know better than to vocalize that joke, the woman would gut her in a heartbeat). In truth, she had known her before they had gained their new titles in law enforcement. Aveline had been Wesley's wife, and Regine was the only person to come up to her at the funeral as she stood at the side of the crowd of mourners. Later she'd come to realise it was because she was the sort of person that was like a stone when it came to emotions, and not someone to generally mess with.

She followed the captain into the small room at the back, closing the door behind her. Aveline had sat at her desk, an act that could only be perceived as flaunting her authority. Regine made for the chair on the opposite side of the desk.

'Don't sit down, just tell me what the hell happened to you last night' she barked. Yeesh, anyone would think she wasn't a morning person…

But back to 'what happened last night'…

'Usual rounds, couple of drunk college kids… Why?'

Aveline sighed. 'Don't get cocky with me, I mean the eye'

What… Oh. Touching her right eye she could feel a bruise.

'That bad?'

'Yes, that bad. Quite a shiner' she smirked. Ah, _there_ was the Aveline she knew. Back in the day, it wasn't unknown of her to get into a few minor scraps herself.

Hawke groaned. Truth be told, she couldn't really remember; for all she knew she could have easily just fallen out of bed during the night.

'Ok, so you don't want to talk about it' Aveline offered. 'But. The amount of bar brawls I _do_ know you've been involved with _is_ a growing concern…'

'Shit Aveline, you're really going to fire me?' This was bad; sure she'd screwed up a few times, but anything she was involved in was completely just.

'No. The board wants me to, but I'm sticking my neck out and _somehow_ keep covering for you'

'Soo…'

'So I'm supposed to reprimand you in some way'.

Regine went blank. So, like a written warning?

'There's a case that a few of the squaddies were supposed to be taking care of, but I think it's only fair that I put you, alone, on it instead'.

'So no written warning or anything?'

'Like it wouldn't just go in your junk pile…' she laughed. 'Sit down'.

Hawke did as she was told, whilst Captain Vallen took a file out from under a pile of the desk. She set in front of herself and opened it;

'Says here that two brothers are missing, 18 and 20 years old. The last lead was that they went into the Deep Roads. Diving, whatever that means'.

'Those caverns outside the city?' Regine enquired. 'Didn't realise they had any water in them…'

'They don't, but whatever the reason, they've been missing for 3 days. This only came in this morning'.

Regine sat back, thinking. After a few moments, she had a new question;

'Is there like, a map or anything? I'm not exactly your regular Batman'.

'Hell if I know' Aveline chuckled. 'You come into contact with a lot of people; ask around'.

**_DADADADADADADADADADADADADADA DADADADADADADADADADADADADADA DADADADADADA_**

The Hanged Man seemed like a good place to start. Heck, it was _always_ a good idea, but one thing that Hawke never did was drink on duty. This was strictly a business call. She pushed past the few people that were in the bar (the same ones as always; weird looking men whose hair was too long and messy, greasy leather jackets or fading trench coats on their backs). When she got to the counter, she motioned at Varric.

Varric was a short man, red hair pulled back into a ponytail and his shirt undone to show an impressive mane of chest hair. If he wasn't a bar owner, he should have been a millionaire surrounded by bubble-chested blondes in bikinis. He and Regine had become somewhat friends over the years, but even still, he never did tell her much about his life before owning the Hanged Man. Then again, she didn't really care to find out; all it would be was yet another story to add to her growing collection of 'mental literature' that he had fed her over the years.

He was drying a glass when she found him. A smile and a nod passed between them, and he walked over towards her.

'The usual?' he asked. She still didn't like the fact that she went to this bar so much that they knew her drink.

'Not today, I actually wanted to ask you something, Varric'.

'Oh?' She was thankful he decided not to make a joke about everyone wanting to run their hands through his chest hair. He spoke clearly and expectantly, like her obvious boredom and annoyance of being put on such a case was obvious. Huh, then there was the issue of what exactly to ask him…

'How does someone get into the Deep Roads?' she settled for.

'You don't, maybe except if you fall through the ground or something. Why?'

'Apparently someone did, and now they're missing'.

He didn't have an answer, apart from the usual Varric-ism of 'let me see what I can do'.

Brilliant. Those caves had been derelict for years, and there was really no safe way of getting into them. Even without that factor, no one at the precinct had any information on where abouts they had managed to get inside. When the father had been asked the regular questions in the inquiry, he didn't know anything apart from that they had 'just decided to go cave-diving or whatever they were doing in the Deep Roads'. This just meant that she would have to go to the library maybe and find a general map of the area. Honestly, was there _no_ information on which area they went into?

'Hawke!'

She looked up at the dwarf.

'Isabella says that she knew a guy who went there in his college days. Works around here as well' he practically beamed. If there was one thing that she liked about Varric, it was that he was a compassionate man, and took pleasure in his friends' happiness.


	3. Chapter 3

**AN**_**: I have to apologize in advance for this chapter. I'm going to be really naughty and switch to first person; I'm not used to writing in third person, and try as I might, I keep reverting, so I've decided to switch. I might go back at the end of this story and make the alterations to the first two chapters, but I know that I have to get on with this fic. However, there is a silver lining; Anders will make his appearance in this chapter (reading Fifty Shades fanfiction is making me write more, and since that sort of lemon is my expertise, don't be surprised if there's at least a little power exchange when I get to the smut). However, no sex in this chapter; this isn't a pwp, and so I need a good soild story. As ever, thank you for all your patience, reviews, and views.**_

Somehow Varric had decided to come along with Isabella and I (she pretty much needed to be there, if only for the fact that she was the only one of us that actually knew who he was). The good thing about owning a bar was you could pick and choose when you and your employees worked, and he said that he was thankful that there was one girl in the back who was just stuck doing inventory for her whole shift.

She'd taken us to Ravenscar hospital. In a city like this, I don't have to tell you how easy it was for her to gain us entry and up into the ward in which I assumed her contact was working in. Each corridor was as disheartening as the next; drunks and druggies slumped across the chairs and floors, with a sprinkling of what I would call 'genuine' patients dotted amongst the others. Tags on the wall, gum under different surfaces that were visible; nothing particularly different from the rest of the city, but to see it in a place that was meant to be clean and tidy did not sit well with me.

I had no idea where we were going, and even if you asked me to direct us, the maze of torn and faded wallpaper all looked the same to me. The only difference was that every now and again, we would have to avoid a blood drip or vomit puddle. One more left turn and we reached our apparent ward. We were probably in the paediatric wing, if the patients in bed were anything to go by. A boy with a bandaged arm was sleeping, faint mutters whispering from his lips from time to time. By another bed, a mother was hushing her evidently feverish child as he cried softly.

'That's our man!' Isabella exclaimed. I turned my head to the direction in which she was pointing, and so it would seem, our doctor had emerged from behind one of the privacy curtains. He was a tall man, wearing a suit too dark for a place that could obviously get very messy. He was talking to one of the nurses, something to do with whatever was on his clipboard. She took it from him, and disappeared behind the blue drapes.

For whatever reason, his head snapped around to face us. He came towards us, wearing a face that hinted at confusion, and perhaps a little hostility.

'Can I help you?' he pretty much demanded.

And hello to you too…

'I'm Detective Hawke. I'd like to ask you a few questions?'

He furrowed his deep-set brow but didn't answer.

'I need to know about the Deep Roads' I clarified. 'I've been told that you know a way in?'

I could tell that he wasn't enjoying this, a faint twitch of his eye when I first said the name.

'I'm not going back there, if that's what you're implying'.

'I'm not implying anything, but if you won't tell me, I'll have to arrest you and you can tell me later on at the precinct'. Okay, maybe I was bluffing a little. Of course, if I really was that mean, I _could_ do it under the fact that he could be hiding their whereabouts.

'Don't threaten me; you can't imagine what I've been through to get here! I'm not interested'. He stepped forward in confrontation, crossing his arms in a way that I can only describe as what a child might do in front of his mother. Great. I sighed visibly, grimacing at the fact that I couldn't do a lot in changing the matter.

'Although…' I heard him start. I looked back at him, but his expression wasn't one of compassion. 'A favour for a favour; does that sound like a fair deal?'

I knew my eyebrow was cocked, maybe from the fact that I'd heard that line too many times in my line of work. It usually ended with the guy with his arm twisted behind his back against the wall.

'I don't mean it like that!' He huffed. 'You people won't do a damn thing if I just report it, so if you want your information, I ask you to help out someone who doesn't seem to matter, for once'.

That was a very low blow. We didn't ignore any reported incident, no matter how big or small it was. Still, if it was the only way I could get him to talk… I nodded in compliance.

'The Circle Institute. I have a friend in there, and they won't let him out'.

'If they believe him to be ill, then they have every right to keep him there. It's for his own good' I remark.

'But he isn't; he's completely able minded and bodied, and they're effectively keeping him prisoner!'

I doubted this very much, but since I was out of options, and the fact that this man _was_ a doctor, I didn't have much choice;

'If you can honestly say that he isn't sick, and that you are agreeing to be his guardian, then I suppose I can try and do something…'

'Meet me outside the chapel inside the Circle at 10. He's usually inside at that point, and there won't be as many people on lookout'.

I agreed to his terms, before walking away. I was really going above board with this one, and I was already on thin ice as it was. Isabella put a comforting hand on my shoulder.

'Why didn't you help me out?' I practically snapped at her.

'It's not like I know him properly! I just knew that there was this guy that I met one night and that he used to go into caves for fun…' Her eyes beamed at me, almost begging me to forgive her like some sort of kicked puppy. I had a right mind to kick her, how she left me hanging…

'Leave her alone Hawke, you know when Isabella says she 'knows' someone, it usually equates to a one-night-stand or something' I heard Varric point out.

'Hey!'

'What, you're going to deny it?' he smirked.

She simply chuckled, obviously agreeing with him.


	4. Chapter 4

The only way that I could describe the Circle when I went through the front doors was by calling it 'empty'; not a single person was walking around, and apart from the solitary security guard (to whom I flashed my badge to), there was no one around. Again, this was a cause for concern; even though it _was_ night and way past visiting hours, I expected to see at least a nurse or two doing the rounds.

The chapel was easy enough to find. Thanks to the helpful map on the wall next to what I assumed was the receptionist's desk, it told me it was basically straight ahead. On cue, the doctor (who Isabella had eventually decided had only a first name, and that was Andrew…) was waiting outside the double doors of the room. I noticed him before he noticed me. He looked anxious, but I suppose anyone would if they hadn't seen their friend for such a long period of time. His right hand rubbed itself by his side as he pushed some buttons on his phone.

'Hope I'm not too late?' I jokingly offered. It seemed to catch him off guard as he flinched and saw me.

'Keep your voice down!' He hissed lowly. He replied by gritting my teeth and holding up my hands. It didn't help, as his frown stayed put;

'Karl should be in there already. Let me do the talking.' Although he was whispering, his words still bounced somewhat off the walls. For whatever reason, that made me feel uneasy. Maybe it was because I knew there was something wrong with his 'plan', that we weren't supposed to be there.

The door creaked gently as he opened it. He held it open for me to step inside before he slowly closed it, holding onto the handle the whole time with a screwed up expression on his face.

'Andrew?'

We both turned to the direction of the voice. Rising from a pew, an aging man with a beard approached us. I couldn't read his dead face, eyes and voice included, matching.

'Karl, what's wrong?' Andrew sounded very worried. 'Why are you..?'

'I knew you would come, and the guards do as well'

I assumed that it meant that this was the sort of place that the authorities within the institution read your letters first, a bit like prison I suppose.

'Karl, you _didn't_?!' The look on his face was a tortured one, and I couldn't help but feel sorry for him, what with being led on like that. Honestly, who even _does_ that? It's just cruel to lure someone into a place like this, only to have them kicked out again. Andrew attempted to reason with him, a muddle of words, but all that Karl guy does is head towards a door at the back of the chapel and summons four of the guards. It's obvious that they were waiting for his signal or something, as they appear to have been just outside of the door.

Andrew immediately adds 'stubborn hostility' to his current emotions as I see him straighten, his fingers twitching somewhat and his eyes narrowed. I doubt he would do anything too rash; a man of his profession would of course know better, and the look in his eye also looks calculating. I'd worked in the police force for long enough to know a little bit about how to read a person's intentions, and it looked like he was at least going to hold back on his anger towards this man.

I also straighten a little; my own professional stance.

'You need to let this man go' I tell them. 'Dr. Grey here tells me that he is no longer ill, and by law, he is allowed to go back home!'

No one replied to me, and in fact it would appear that I wasn't even there; they ignored me completely like they knew this was coming. My brilliant brain then makes a reference to how they look and that they were preparing for some sort of standoff, Quentin Tarantino-style. Oh yes, it does like to pick the strangest place to try and make me lose official-looking appearance.

'You need to leave'

I blinked at Andrew, cocking an eyebrow.

'Hawke, go. Just wait outside.'

'Are you sure? It doesn't like they'll budge to the reasoning of…'

He interrupted me. 'If I need you I'll call you!'

Okay, fine… I hesitated for a moment then walked back through the doors, easing them back so as to not cause too much of a racket. It was the dead of night anyway, and I was sure those poor people sleeping would just love it if I disturbed them. Poor bastards; from my experience with mental hospitals, some of them might as well have been at death's door. Sure, some might only hear their cereal talking to them, but others could be within their own private hell; horrifying hallucinations, extreme phobias, or even just the feeling that they aren't even there.

I wasn't without my quirks; every now and again I'd become very aware of my own skin and couldn't bear anything touching it, not able to sit or stand or cross my legs or even touch anything. Apparently I still had depression from my teenage years as well; that, or the doctor had never been bothered to stop giving me my meds. I also have a long list of food phobias, including foods that I would be able to eat but cannot touch other food on my plate. But no, obviously none of that compared to what I imagined some of them went through. I was what people would consider the 'norm', and with that, the realisation of what some psych patients go through was really something to behold.

I thought back to my sister. She barely even came out of her room now, from proper depression. Not that I saw her on a daily basis anyway; I'd moved into a tiny apartment as soon as I got the money together, but Bethany had stayed with my mother. I wasn't sure what had sparked it particularly. She had always kept herself to herself, but it did seem to start right after they found my father…

The lights above me started to flicker and then die. Power cut. Thankfully I had a little torch with me, so I flicked it on. I wanted to go check on Dr. Grey and Karl, but since the door was solid wood (or chipboard covered with wood, or whatever), I couldn't even take a peek to see how it was going. Underneath the door, the lights inside flashed on and off. A little like a lighting storm, I suppose. But no, now wasn't the time to keep making mental suggestions to myself. I didn't really want to intrude, but a part of me wanted to make sure something bad that I could prevent wasn't going on inside. Blame it on the badge. I pressed my ear to the crack which separated each door and tried to hear something. Anything really, just to give me peace of mind.

Instead, what I got was a punch in the face by said doors. Ow..! I staggered back, nursing my right cheekbone as Andrew came running out.

'What the hell?!' I practically screamed. Damn, that was going to leave a bruise. The captain was _not_ going to be happy to see that…

'Just run!' He shouted, as much as a whisper could shout. At the same time he grabbed my wrist and dragged me behind him. I let out a small yelp as his hand shocked me. Jeez, last I checked there weren't any carpets in the chapel…

'Why? What did you do?!' I hissed back at him, though it sounded more like the voice of a cheap barfly who'd smoked too many cigarettes.

'Explain later, just run!'

oo0o0oo

We eventually ended up in the park, obviously picked for the camouflage from the trees and dark it sort of gave us. Andrew stopped for a minute to catch his breath. I was used to the running, but I had to say, I wasn't impressed he'd got this far, being only a doctor and all. I guessed patients had a tendency to make him rush over from the opposite building a lot. He sat on the grass ledge, head rested on hands on arms that rested on knees.

I looked at him, trying (and failing) to read him.

'What did you do?' I asked him, somewhat calmer than I expected it to come out. He didn't look at me, stayed silent. I crouched down to his height but didn't try to move his head to look at me. Whatever it was, it was troubling him something awful.

Maybe five minutes passed and he still hadn't said anything. Finally, he looked up. Not at me; just around as he stood up and cracked his back. I studied him again;

'Whatever it is, you can tell me…' I suggested softly.

A faint flicker of amusement finally passed over him, but it was gone as soon as it came.

'I'm sure it'd be a wonderful experience trying to explain it to you…' he chuckled. It wasn't a happy chuckle, more the sort you'd give if you were… well, in his situation; feeling a little down to say the least, and a little hostile towards anyone who tried to approach you.

His words struck me a bit. He wasn't really what you would consider a friend (not after knowing him for _so_ long), but his hint of viciousness wounded me. Still, it then struck me that perhaps he didn't mean me personally, and more the fact that I could arrest him. With that, I didn't answer him. All I could do was look down. What could I say to him? I didn't know what he was going through, or even what had happened, plus the fact that I probably should arrest him if he told me what he'd done…

I felt his eyes upon me, and no sooner than that, he spoke up again, his tone softened.

'I'm sorry. Look, maybe I'll tell you some other time, but right now I just need a cold beer and a very long nap…'

I chuckled lightly at his response; obviously a doctor would have long given up the notion of proper 'sleep' and now resort to naps.

He smiled and ghosted his finger along my arm, an obvious sign of apology and comfort.

'My maps are yours, as am I if you need me to help out. Just please don't ask me to go unless it's a very last resort' he muttered, that hint of humour lacing his words again. 'Thank you for this; I didn't think any of you would be as helpful as you were…'

I laughed. 'And what makes you think you weren't just using you?' I joke.

'Well it's been a long time since anyone's used me, but I supposed that would make me a poor judge of character anyway'

'No, I wouldn't use you; I'm not that sort of girl' I practically purr. I then freeze at the realisation of what I just said and how I said it. The moment is brief because I then realise I can play it off as part of the rest of this friendly banter. It _is_ friendly banter, isn't it?

He hums as he silently snorts at the comment. I see him take out a small piece of paper and a pen, and he leans on his knee to right something.

'Call me if you _do_ need anything' he smiles, handing me the card. With that, he bends to kiss my cheek and says goodbye, heading off down the path and eventually disappearing into the darkness. I shove the card into my pocket and walk my own direction home.

* * *

**Author's Note**: _**No, I did not give him the surname because of the book I've just finished, I chose it because of 'Grey' Wardens and Amell just didn't seem to go with a modern-day setting. Hope people haven't given up on me yet; I'm really sorry for the delay (again). I suffer terribly from writer's block, and that with my being back at uni and that I had a test shoot to go to last week meant I've either had nothing to write or been without time to write it down. Also, I think I've finally found the tense I'll stick with, so again, many apologies, and I really hope everyone doesn't see this as a crap piece of writing (what can I say? I've read a few bad ones recently, and my confidence has gone straight through the floor lol)**_


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's** **Note:**** I must be on a roll today! This chapter is more of a bridge to the next (and frankly because I can't wait to do Act 2). As you may have noticed, I have altered certain events somewhat, and things will happen in places where they should have happened in another place, in the game. I just think it works better for this story, especially since I have an idea of what happens in certain later chapters. Also, a big thank you for all of my supporters. You don't know how much it means to me to know that I'm doing something right lol. I have posted this fic onto my deviantart page as well (link to my profile is in my profile for this site), just to keep you up to date**

* * *

The next day was all about running errands. Aveline gave me a ball-busting for the new bruise in the morning, I'd picked up the maps from Dr. Grey after he left them at the front desk, and finally gathered a few other people around the precinct to decide on what was the best entrance into the caves. From what I gathered from the boys' father, they would have taken an entrance close to the city, which narrowed it down considerably. Now that I was off the clock, I had one more thing to do.

My mother greets me at the door as she usually does, a book (or sometimes needlecraft) in her hand. She tells me that she has a pot of tea brewing and that I should sit down. When she does the same, I can see how fragile she is getting. She wasn't entirely young when she gave birth to me twenty-six years ago, but on top of that, she has had to pretty much take care of my little sister for most of her motherhood.

'How is she?' I enquire.

'About the same as usual; sits in her room all day, only comes out to eat…'

'So she never _did_ grow out of that 'mopey teenager' phase, did she?' I jest. Her reply is a quiet chuckle, but underneath it isn't so much cheer. As much as my mother denies it, Bethany's condition has at least robbed her of her best years. She should be out enjoying herself now that her children have grown up, and not still be caring for one as if they are indeed a mopey teenager.

'She asked about you the other day, you know?'

Her words pricked my ears up.

'Oh?' Bethany, as dear as she is to me, can't tell up from down, and to hear her ask of me sort of gave me some hope, however short-lived I know it would be.

'She asked if you were safe'

'As in..?'

'I think in general. She doesn't go outside much anymore, and I think for her to know that you're out there on your own makes her worry…'

I wouldn't mind betting that that's just another thing that she has created inside of her mind. You hear about hermits who won't venture outside their front door in fear that something is out to get them. I can't help but think this might be the case for her.

_Bethany has always been shy, but aren't a lot of children. Carver and I were the ones to get into scraps, whereas she would do girl things and help mother bake or clean or play dolls. We always invited her out to play, of course, but she never wanted to. That was fine by us; at least we wouldn't have to keep an eye on her or fear for her to tell our parents what sort of trouble we had gotten into whatever day. We were a very close-knit family, but she would always seem to be closer to my parents. At first I suppose I was a little jealous, but we soon took it as a given. After all, we were allowed to go out into the fields and town and do whatever we wanted (within reason; our parents always had rules, like any good parent should)._

_She was always scared at the smallest of things. Me and my brother used to tease her about it relentlessly, which only died down a bit after he decided to put a spider next to her pillow one night. That never stopped us fighting amongst ourselves; I remember very vividly the time when we used to sneak into each other's rooms whilst everyone was sleeping and beat the sleeping other to near death with our pillow. One night our father had heard us and threatened to ground us if we made so much as another sound. I, obviously, wasn't going to take any precautions; it was my turn to be beaten, so I emptied a bunch of thumbtacks onto the floor near the door to catch him out. As if by clockwork, he came charging through the door and suddenly let out the girliest howl I had ever heard. I laughed so hard I'm pretty sure I almost wet the bed, but then we had to endure a week of grounding (mine was another week on top, since I put the pins out)._

_We loved Bethany obviously, but I can't help thinking that I might have loved her more if she wasn't always in the house. She never had any friends over, never went out to sleepovers, anything. As we got older, our father would teach us 'safe' combat self-defence moves that he used at work (again, out father was a big influence on our lives, even to the point that we got the same job as he did because we thought it was really cool). As Bethany got older, she just got better at making doll clothes and (quite possibly) the best stew that we'd ever tasted. She also grew more attached to my father, literally; when he wasn't working or training us, he would be off in some back room with her. I'd listened in once, and he was teaching her how to play World of Warcraft or something Lord of the Rings-related. Something about spells; maybe she had developed in interest in the Wiccan way of life. I still don't know but then again I never had that much of an interest. I was just always looking for the next prank to put on Carver or how to beat him at an arm wrestle._

_When they found our dad, she almost instantly retreated into her room and has almost never left the house. That was close to ten years ago, so to say that she is still grieving would not be appropriate._

I always make sure I visit my mother and sister at least once a week, though I never spend a lot of time over there. I offer to help out with whatever needs doing in the house, but the answer is generally no. I also off to go and see Bethany upstairs, but she rarely wants to see anyone. When she does occasionally come down stairs, I get mixed emotions. True, I like to see that she is up and about, but she always has that vacant look in her eyes; ghosting through to wherever she needs to be, maybe bumping into things like anyone in her condition does, not really aware of her surroundings. Once she has done what she needs to do, she goes back upstairs.

I really wish mother would employ some help with her at the very least. She is getting older, and she needs help whether she likes it or not. The doctors say it's depression, but I wouldn't mind betting it's because of what I know they generally do- see what boxes she ticks and put her into one herself. She is getting so bad now, that however much a dance around the subject, she is, in a way, gone. Too far gone down whatever road she started on from an early age.

* * *

I get home late. As much as I like seeing my family, it's nice to be in my own space. I kick my gym bag out of my way as I walk in. Hmm, maybe I _should_ tidy the place up a bit… It's not dirty or anything, but I could do with not tripping over my bag whenever I walk down my 'hallway' (which isn't say much, as it's only a small apartment). One kitchen, one living room, one bathroom and one bedroom. It's a little cosy, but it's not like someone else lives here. I doubt anyone would _want_ to, I chuckle to myself. On the coffee table sits stacks off paperwork and magazines, two coffee cups balanced on top, half a bottle of whiskey wedged between the sofa and side table.

I sling down my bag wherever, as usual. Of course I hang my coat up, but that's clothing. Kicking my boots off, I turn on the TV for something to play in the background as I work out what the hell I'm going to do about this current mess. The job, not the table.

The sofa tries to swallow me as I sit down but I fight it back, beating it a little until I'm comfortable. I set the map down and the suggestions paper next to it.

Okay, so where do we go from here? It looks like there is only a few entrances to start with, but the father said they would go wherever is closest to home. Sounds fair enough; if I wanted to go to the beach, I wouldn't want to go through a forest. That leaves two of the openings. I look back at the map and decide even if I went through the wrong entrance, I could still get where I wanted. Wherever that would be…

Who the hell even does these things? I can understand urban exploration, but these caves aren't used much, and if you were to get lost or injured then… Then I suppose your family would get worried and call the police…

The Deep Roads looks big, but it's small enough that it can fit on a map. I'm hoping anyway; the openings are all only marked with an 'X', inside _and_ out. Then again, if that's the case, then that would mean the rooms inside weren't going to make me all claustrophobic (rooms, spaces, whatever; I don't go into dark natural things as a hobby!).

I think back to Dr. Grey (I'm just glad I saw his name badge so I could address him formally, thank you Isabella). I know he said that he never wanted to go back there, but would it be such a bad idea to take him along? He _did_ know the caves after all, and having a guide certainly would be helpful. As long as he wasn't working, that is. I don't want to rope along too many people, but the rest of the squaddies would be as much use as a wet rag. Also, I might not really want to go in there alone. You hear all the horror stories of people getting stuck or lost, and I really don't want that to happen to me. I doubt a bar tender would be much use either, but an ex-Marine might (forgetting the whole fact of why she was kicked out)…

Or Fen. I'm sure he would be up for potentially saving the lives of a couple of idiot teenagers.

…

It's times like this where I really hate that my family had to go to a new city; I know plenty of people who would be just what I need right now…


	6. Chapter 6

_**Author's Note: **_

**_I'm not promising that I'll be able to update more frequently, but for the time being, I don't have a lot of coursework to stop me from writing (subject to change). As for now, I hope you enjoy this little fill chapter before the Deep Roads chapter. This switches Point Of View at times, but I felt that it would better give you the audience more insight into two of the character's lives (later on the in the story, I plan to do this again many times). Also, I can confirm that I have an illustration for a certain chapter- I will not however be advertising the link until that chapter is written_**

'So what's in it for me?' the white haired man in front of me asks. He has a little humour in his voice, and that tells me I'm on the right track here in asking him.

_I'd only known Fen a few years, found him drinking in the bar I frequented before I started becoming a patron to the Hanged Man. And did the man like to drink! I came across him like I did most people; standing at the bar, and getting into a rant on how slow the service was (not that I thought about how popular the bar actually was at those points). We became drinking buddies of sorts; we'd both be there without letting the other know, but still managed to wind up chatting at a table by ourselves. He wasn't very good at cards, but he was nice enough company._

_He always seemed to have a chip on his shoulder. That I found out from countless bottles of cheap wine and that one time of pillow talk. Eventually we got tired of the 'slow' service and letches always trying to get too close to us. So we decided to start drinking at home; one week I'd go to his, the other vice versa. I found the Hanged Man through having to break up a fight that got out of hand, and suddenly we found ourselves there most weekends._

_He didn't let on to much of his back story, unlike most people you become friends with, certainly drunk ones. Then again, I didn't like to ask. The few pieces of information that I got from him involved his uncle, and how much of a Cinderella story his childhood was. There were…other things…, but I don't like to think about them; any sort of child abuse is high up on my no-go areas of morality, but physical of all sorts like to stick with me until my next drinking session. We all have our problems at the end of the day, but I'm just glad he managed to run away from it all._

'You'd maybe save the lives of a few idiot boys and get to see the beauty of the countryside' I grin. Okay, it's more of a grimace; places like this city are far removed from any real natural beauty, and I somehow know the caves are going to be only slightly less crummy than inside the city.

He laughs, but agrees anyway. If I know him as well as I think I do, I know that he's doing it mainly, or only, for something of an escape. Hey, if we get to breath in even half of what pollution we do in Kirkwall, it's got to be something. We clink our glasses in a toast to whatever 'adventure' we will be having, and get back to the wonderful culture that only the scuzziest bar in town can offer.

So far, that makes four of us. Varric practically invited himself after I spurted my grievances on the matter, and of course, if he was coming, then so was Isabella. Varric says it's fine because he can just get someone to cover for them. Don't get me wrong, I'm not officially allowed to do this. I was just about able to bring Varric because he's well-known in the force as a source of information. I suppose I can also make up an excuse for Isabella, what with her being ex-army and everything.

And Fen? I just like having him for company.

As for medical assistance, I adapted a technique that I'd usually stay away from- manipulation. In truth, I felt utterly heartless in my actions, but I was desperate now. I invited Dr. Grey out for a coffee early today, at lunch to be precise. I knew that he would be available and possibly relaxed enough to talk to nicely. I didn't outright ask him to come along with me to the caves, but as a lot of women know, a little flirting can go along the way. For the entire half an hour that we sat nursing our drinks, we made small talk that ended in a full-blown conversation of his choice; the politics of the city. After every heated section (and there were a lot; he and I just did not agree with a lot of things), I'd follow it up with a compliment or a play with my hair.

I didn't ask him. No, that I would save until later. Like I said, I was playing dirty, and I'd wait until it was late enough in the day for him to be a little tired out.

**_Anders' POV_**

'Please Dr. Grey, I wouldn't be asking unless I had good reason to…'

She stands tall and firm, but she's pleading with me now. I can tell that she isn't comfortable showing this sort of neediness, but she also knows my stance towards those damned caverns. I'm about to repeat myself for what seems like the hundredth time, but she stops me again.

She doesn't so much as do it by her own stubbornness or will, but I see it again; her eyes almost sparkle in their oceanic lustre, her ruby lips parted as they try with all their might to hold in another plea. This is the sort of woman who could drag any man into whatever abyss she wanted, and they wouldn't utter a single word of displeasure. I suppose I'm just thankful I still have Karl at the back of my mind.

Otherwise, I would surely sink.

In these last few minutes, she had told me that there was no chance in hell of finding her way through the caves without my knowledge. This I agreed with, but not to. Call me claustrophobic after the incident last time, but I truly hate that place.

'I'll also need someone with a little medical knowledge' she tells me. 'I know how dangerous those places are, and I just see it as the easiest option; two birds, one stone'.

That ever-present shiver crawls down my back and arms that happens every time she does something like that, either a gesture of compassion or need… What am I thinking?! I mentally shake my head.

'Don't you think I have enough on my plate right now?' I argue, eyes narrowed. 'I work God-knows how many hours, Karl _died_…!'

I stop myself when I see her guard come down. She looks defeated, and for some reason that doesn't sit well with me. Why? This should be exactly what I want. I sigh;

'In any case, what about if the hospital needs me and the signal doesn't reach me when I'm down there?'

She seems to accept this with a disheartened nod. She smiles and thanks me for my 'time anyway' and heads out of the door.

**_Regine's POV_**

I walk down the steps of the entrance and look for my car. Who am I kidding; I'm terrible at this in my own time. I look at my ticket stub to find the lot number and go where it tells me. Once in my car, I slump back in my seat. I groan. I just want to get home and curl up to some mindless trash TV. I sit up and buckle my seatbelt. When I get home, I'm greeted with a text.

'**When were you thinking?**'


End file.
